Hair sprouts in most mysterious ways
And in unwanted places;
In cracks and crevices it plays,
In erstwhile hairless spaces.
Like up the nose and in the ears
And even on the shoulder;
Yet from the head it disappears
The more that one grows older.
Some think it cute to be hirsute
On chest and leg and thigh;
Myself, I'd rather substitute
A thicker thatch on high.
(Thanks to Danish Dog for improving this poem)
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